It's a Horror Story Baby Just Say Yes
by ThroughTheStatic
Summary: What happens when a serial killer becomes infatuated with a Catholic school boy? Chaos, that's what. Frerard.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! So this is one of the stories I was telling you about. I'm really proud of it so far, and it's the furthest I've ever gotten with a fic. It's gonna be a pretty long story, I'm telling you now. I hope you all enjoy!**

**Warnings: Kidnap, rape, violence, self-harm**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas and words.  
**. . .

It's A Horror Story Baby Just Say Yes

Chapter 1

Infatuated

. . .

The school bell rang, signaling the end to the seven hours of pure torture Frank Iero had to endure five days a week.

Frank pushed his way through the crowded halls of Belleville High, attempting to get to his locker. A few obnoxious kids threw a book at him halfway through the journey, just adding to the numerous ailments he'd accumulated over the course of the day.

A few airborne books later and Frank finally made it to his locker. Brushing his long black fringe out of his eyes, he muttered a simple "Fuck you all" while shoving his books in the tiny metal space.

"Hey, Frankie!" shouted Frank's best friend, Ray Toro, as he bounded down the packed hall, frizzy hair bouncing on his head.

"Toro!" Frank grinned for what felt like the first time that day. "How's it going, dude?" Ray stopped in front of Frank, hands on his knees and gasping for air.

"I just ran all the way here from my Bio class," he panted, face flushed a deep red.

"Dude, why?" Frank couldn't help but laugh. Only Toro...

"Christa-" He took a breath, "Christa finally asked me out!"

"You're kidding! Congrats, man! I know how much you like her."

"Yeah," Said Ray, finally catching his breath. "So how's it going with you and Jamia?" He inquired.

"Ah dude, she's pissed at me again." Frank sighed.

He really did hate it when he and his girlfriend of six months, Jamia, fought.

"What'd you say this time?" Ray chuckled.

Frank was his best friend, but _everyone_ knew he said some pretty rude things on occasion.

"Well we were at the movies and she started complaining about the popcorn being too buttery. Then she complained that her soda was regular when she wanted diet. /Then/ the entire way through the movie, she complained about the plot and the actors and just whatever. So, y'know, I go 'You've been complaining the whole time. Are you on your period or something?' And she completely /freaked/ out on me, going, 'Just because a girl's acting different doesn't mean she's on her period!'" Frank sighed, vividly remembering his girlfriend's furious expression at his comment.

What was it with girls? They just freak out over everything...

"Nice, dude. Have you talked to her since?" Ray asked.

"Nope," Frank replied, making a popping noise on the 'p' and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Whatever, man. Good luck with this whole thing," Ray called, setting off towards his locker.

Frank slung his book bag over his shoulder and started out the double doors of the school, cringing as the sunlight made contact with his eyes and skin.

"Ah, natural light, it burns!" he mumbled, setting off down the street towards his house.

He took a shortcut through the park a few blocks away from his house, passing young children and worrying parents. _Poor kids_, Frank thought. _They have no idea what's waiting for them in high school_. He pulled out his iPod from his pocket and stuck the ear buds in his ears, selecting one of the many punk songs and turning the volume up all the way.

Little did he know that someone had watched this entire action, a small smirk making its way onto their lips. Oh, if only he knew...

. . .

Gerard Way sat on the rotting wooden bench in the park, just thinking. The shrill laughs and giggles of the young children at play filling the air around him. Oh how he longed to be a child again, so innocent and unknowing of the horrors of the world.

Unknowing of the horror that was Gerard Way.

The children didn't have even the slightest idea that just twenty feet away from them was a complete psychopath. Little did they know that just the tiniest distance away from them was a murderer.

Yes, that's right, Gerard Way was a murderer. He'd murdered so many women he'd lost count. Of course he only killed those he found unworthy to walk the Earth, mostly prostitutes and any woman he found willingly selling their body.

He knew they were real people, no matter how ugly their insides were, he knew that somewhere, those women had family and friends who cared very much about them. But still he killed them without a second thought. Why?

Because whores tore his family apart. Whores were the reason his baby brother was dead. Poor Mikey, he was only fourteen when he was killed thoughtlessly. He had had his whole life ahead of him and yet he never got to live it.

You see, one night when Mikey and Gerard were supposed to be sleeping, their father brought a whore into the house. His sons were never supposed to find out. But little Mikey heard the loud curses and moans and decided to investigate. He descended down the stairs and into the living room, taking in the sight before him.

His father, obviously very drunk, had a young, scantily clad girl pinned against the wall, kissing her furiously. Mikey immediately began to sob, earning the attention of his father. His father turned around to be met with the sight of his teenage son crying, and he narrowed his eyes.

_"How could you do this to mom?!" _Mikey had shrieked through his tears.

His father, upon hearing this, spun around and grabbed the thing nearest to him, planning on knocking his son out with it and persuading him that it was all just a dream.

But what he picked up happened to be a hammer left on top of the fireplace from half-finished home improvement projects. Mikey's father swung his arm back and hurled the hammer at Mikey, who immediately fell to the floor in a bloody heap.

Seventeen-year-old Gerard Way stood in the doorway, witnessing the entire scene. He ran over to his brother's lifeless corpse and shook him.

"Mikes? Mikes please wake up!" He yelled at the body, but he knew that his brother wasn't there anymore.

The crimson blood slowly trickled from the wound on Mikey's forehead and his once playful hazel eyes were now dead.

Gerard lay his brother back down and picked up the hammer. "You're going to pay for this you fucking scumbag!" Gerard lunged at his father, who drunkenly stumbled backwards.

Gerard brought the hammer down again and again on his father, who begged and screamed for him to stop. Gerard took no notice of this, however, and turned towards the young prostitute cringing against the wall in horror. He flicked his long raven hair out of his eyes and said with a growl, "I'd get out of here while you have the chance, sugar." And with that said, the hooker pried open the front door and sprinted down the street as fast as she could in her heels.

Gerard laid a kiss on his brother's forehead and left home that night, promising never to go back again.

Now at the age of twenty, Gerard Way still had a strong hatred for whores, and he killed them passionately. His sanity had also seen better days. Even though he killed, Gerard's mind was really set like one of a child.

He acted like one, threw tantrums like one, and had mood swings like one. Maybe that's why he was in the park right now- because he's nothing more than an oversized kid.

As Gerard was staring off into space on that park bench, he took notice to someone walking along the path, muttering curses under their breath.

The person he saw was a boy, but he happened to be the most beautiful boy Gerard had ever seen.

The boy was short, much shorter than Gerard, and looked to be about sixteen. He had black hair, slightly spiked in the back and a long black fringe covering his right eye. He was wearing your typical Catholic school uniform, a blue blazer, white dress shirt, and a tie, along with gray dress pants.

The boy pulled an iPod out from his pocket and shoved his headphones into his ears; Gerard couldn't help but wonder what kind of music this boy listened to.

But Gerard knew one thing: he wanted this boy.

And whatever Gerard Way wanted, Gerard Way got.

. . .

**Please R&R? :3**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alright, well here's the second chapter since you guys seem to like it. :D I already have 11 chapters written and I'm working on the twelfth, so…yeah. This story's pretty violent, and if you don't like reading about rape, then it's probably not for you. Just sayin'.**

**Alright, well enjoy my pretties. I love you all and good night!**

. . .

Chapter 2

Rest Up

. . .

Frank Iero was sitting on a swing in the park near his house for two reasons: 1) Because he felt like it and 2) He forgot his keys and his mom wouldn't be home for another two hours.

All of the kids were gone by now, the result being that the playground was deserted. The only sound was that of the squeaky chains on Frank's swing. His feet just touched the ground underneath the swing, causing dust and dirt to fly up into the air in soft plumes. Frank couldn't help but envy the dirt. '_At least you get to fly away and leave. I'm stuck here,_' he thought.

A gentle breeze swooped Frank's dark fringe up just long enough for one of his black rimmed eyes to come into view. But as soon as the breeze came, it left, allowing the fringe to plop right back down into place.

A figure entering the park caught Frank's eye, causing him to look up, curious as to whom would be at the park this late at night. Well, it was only seven at night, but still.

The figure turned out to be a young guy around Frank's age, maybe a little bit older. He had pale skin and a round, boyish face, along with shoulder length black hair. He was clad entirely in black.

_'Good,'_ Frank thought bitterly _'Maybe he'll murder me and dump my body somewhere no one will find it.'_

The boy, who Frank didn't notice was walking towards him, stopped in front of him.

"Is anybody sitting here?" he asked in a somewhat nasally but all the same adorable voice. He pointed at the swing next to Frank.

"No," Frank mumbled, kicking up more dirt.

The boy sat down on the swing and brought out a pack of Marlboros from his pocket, lighting one up with a match and sucking in the cancerous air. "So what's your name, kid?" He asked.

Frank raised his eyebrows. "'Kid?' Dude, you're like a year older than me!" He snapped. He wasn't in the best of moods to begin with, and he certainly didn't need some overconfident prick asking him stupid questions.

"So?" the boy asked, still puffing away on his cigarette. "Just- what's your name?"

"Why?" Frank retorted. _Why does some stranger want to know my name so badly? Oh my god, he is gonna murder me._

"So I know who I'm talkin' to. That's why."

"Fine." Frank huffed. "I'm Frank. What's your name?"

The stranger brushed back his long ebony hair and smirked. "The name's Gerard."

"Nice." Frank couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable around Gerard, especially since he was still smirking at him. Frank now took notice that Gerard had really pretty eyes- a sort of greenish brown, but not quite hazel. The colors seemed to swirl with each other, creating the most unique color. Frank could just look into them for hours...

Frank was cut from his trance by the sound of his phone ringing, the oh-so familiar sounds of the Misfits piercing the air. "Ah, shit." Frank swore. He saw this one coming.

"What? Who is it?" Gerard asked innocently.

Frank debated telling him or not, but just settled on telling him in the end. "It's my girlfriend," he muttered, running a nervous hand through his hair.

Gerard's expression visibly darkened. "Girlfriend?" he asked. "What girlfriend?"

Frank started to feel very uneasy around Gerard and quickly made the mental decision to answer his girlfriend's call. "Um, listen, Gerard?" he started nervously, afraid of the other man's reaction. "I've gotta go. I'll-erm, see you around, I guess."

"Do you have to?" Gerard gave him the best puppy eyes he could manage, but they didn't affect Frank the slightest bit.

"Yeah. It was nice talking to you!" he called as he began to leave. It wasn't a _complete_ lie, but really, it wasn't exactly an enjoyable experience talking to Gerard. He just seemed...creepy.

As Frank exited the park, he noticed that his phone had stopped ringing. _'Ah, SHIT! Jamia's gonna kill me!'_

To describe Frank as unhappy in his relationship would be a lie. He was happy, extremely happy indeed, but sometimes Jamia could be a little..._aggressive_. A good example would be the last time Frank didn't answer one of her calls. Frank was in the middle of straightening his hair when his phone started to ring. Now, straightening his hair was a real task, so he couldn't answer the phone. When he finally called his girlfriend back a whole seven minutes later, she flipped out on him and started accusing him of being with another girl. Frank had then added extreme paranoia to her list of imperfections- but he still loved her.

By the time he reached his house, Frank noticed that his mother had made it home early. He made his way up the porch steps, his battered black Converse slapping against the concrete. He pulled open the door and made his way up the stairs to his room, yelling to his mom that he was home. He pushed open the door to his room and slammed it shut, plopping down on his bed and punching in Jamia's number. Frank tried to prepare himself for the oncoming rain of accusations, but no matter how much he tried, he was still always taken aback by his girlfriend's shouts.

After about two rings, she picked up. "Hello, Frank," she said in an unusually calm voice.

"Hey Jam, listen, I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone. I was talking to someone and I couldn't pick up in time," Frank apologized in a pleading voice.

"Who is she?"

"Actually, she was a _he_, and he was some random dude that came up to me in the park."

"Oh yeah? What was his name?" Her voice took on a very sarcastic tone which Frank did not really appreciate.

"Gerard. His name was Gerard."

"Oh, well you can go tell this 'Gerard' person to stop flirting with you because you're taken!"

Frank began to raise his voice. "Oh my god, we weren't flirting! Why are you getting so worked up over this?"

"Because I love you, Frankie!" she began to sob.

"You sure you're not on your period?" Frank asked, noting her drastic change in moods.

Frank couldn't even begin to comprehend the stream of insults and curses flowing from the other end of the line. Frank tried yelling back, but his shouts couldn't even begin to match that of his girlfriend's.

"Alright," Frank started his voice angry and firm. "You know what, Jamia? We're done."

Jamia's shouts through the phone ceased. "W-What?" she stuttered.

"I'm breaking up with you," stated Frank.

"No, Frankie, please! I'm sorry!" she pleaded, but Frank's mind was made up.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are. Bye, Jamia."

"Fine! Have fun with 'Gerard', you faggot!" And with that said, she hung up on Frank.

Frank stood up from his bed and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pacing around his tiny bedroom. He wasn't glad his relationship was over. He still loved Jamia, but he couldn't take anymore of her accusations. Maybe if she just stopped to listen to what Frank had to say...

But what Frank didn't know was that Gerard had followed him home and was standing outside his open bedroom window listening to everything Frank said.

"She doesn't know you like I do, Frankie," He said with a smirk.

Gerard needed to choose his time to strike, and when he did, it'd be quick and precise. No one would suspect a thing.

And that time to strike was now.

. . .

Frank's only other neighbor was currently out of town, so Frank didn't have to worry about playing his music too loud. His mother had been called in for work again, so with a kiss on his cheek and a rushed goodbye, she was out the door. Too bad she didn't know that would be the last time she ever saw her son.

Frank was sitting on the couch in his living room with Black Flag blaring out of the stereo to his right. With a bag of Skittles in his hand, he sighed. Life couldn't get any better right now, especially since he was currently going through a breakup.

Frank heard a few muffled bangs coming from his front door, but he just took it as the wind, seeing as there was supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight.

He heard the bangs again, only this time much louder.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

Frank paused his music and set down his Skittles, ever so subtly creeping towards the door. The bangs were increasing in sound, matching the rhythm of his steps.

BANG.

Step.

BANG.

Step.

BANG.

Step.

As Frank rounded the corner into the hallway where the door was, he prepared himself for what he might see. He turned the corner and screamed a high pitched, incredibly girly scream. He clutched his chest and looked down at what caused his fright.

His dog, Mama.

She was clawing at the door and whimpering, obviously wanting to go outside and explore the world.

Frank opened the door and the dog shot off, chasing after a rabbit she saw. He laughed and shut the door.

"Oh, Mama..."

But as Frank turned around to walk back to the living room, he got the shock of his life.

The boy from the park, Gerard, was standing in the middle of the hallway, smirking and staring right at Frank.

"Hi, Frankie," he drawled.

"What are you doing here?!" Frank shrieked, noticing the syringe Gerard was twirling between his long, bony fingers.

"I just want to...chat." Gerard took a step towards Frank and dropped his syringe. As he bent down to pick it up, Frank shot past him and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He ran into his room, slamming the door and locking it behind him. He could hear Gerard pounding up the steps after him at an incredibly slow, mocking pace.

Frank didn't know what to do. Why didn't he just run out the front door like any sane person would have?

_Because you want to get caught_, said a nagging little voice in the back of his head.

But Frank didn't have time to disagree with the voice, for Gerard had kicked down Frank's door in one smooth motion. With his long black hair sticking up in random places and his all black clothing, Gerard really did look like a psycho.

"It's time to go, Frankie."

Gerard lunged at Frank, his larger body rendering Frank helpless. The shorter man screamed and began to struggle, but Gerard caught him in a headlock and stabbed the needle into his exposed arm, pushing down on the top and entering the syringe's contents into Frank's system.

As the world began to fade into black, Frank heard Gerard say one last thing.

"Rest up, Frankie. You've got a big day tomorrow."

And with that being said, Frank fell into a deep slumber, the sound of his own screams echoing through his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alright so here's the next chapter…applause…clapping…screams of terror. **

. . .

Chapter 3

Forever and Ever and Ever...

. . .

Frank was floating, swimming through the dark crevices of his mind. He didn't remember what happened, but he did know that he was unconscious.

His memories blurred past him like a bad television reception; memories of his friends, of school, of Jamia, of his family. But one memory really caught him by surprise.

A memory of his father.

His father hadn't crossed his mind since he passed away four years ago- probably because Frank wanted nothing more than to forget about him. You see, his father wasn't exactly a _good_ father. After a day of hard work and one too many beers, he would come home to his wife and Frank, who at the time was only ten.

His father would find fault in everything that Frank did, resulting in him beating the ten year old to the brink of death. Frank's mother would always run downstairs and scream at her husband to stop, but he never would. Giving Frank one last kick to the head, he would then turn to his wife and do the same to her. This went on for two more years until he was killed in a drunken driving accident. It's safe to say that he was the one who was drinking.

When Frank received the news that his father had died upon impact, he didn't even shed a tear. Instead, he smiled. He smiled and he laughed. No more beating, no more insults. Frank was safe. He actually believed that at the time, too, but if only he knew the situation he was in now would be about a thousand times worse than the wrath of his father.

The memories began to fade and the darkness peeled itself away from Frank's vision. He groaned and shifted, slowly cracking his eyes open, which was a lot easier said than done since they currently felt as if they were superglued shut. Eventually, he got them open, only to wish he didn't.

Frank didn't exactly know _where_ he was, but it was dark. It wasn't dark enough not to be able to see, but dark enough to make Frank's stomach twist in knots.

He was lying on a twin sized bed, the mattress hard and uncomfortable. He quickly sat up, a pain shooting through his neck from lying in one position for too long. He looked around the room, taking note that there were in fact windows, but they were covered by thick curtains. The walls were bare and looked to be covered in floral wallpaper, one section incredibly peeling and droopy. Finally, Frank found what he was looking for- a door.

He slowly stood up, the bed groaning loudly behind him. He cringed but kept going. He sleepily made his way to the door, tiptoeing across the faded carpeting. He was just about to reach for the doorknob when a voice he knew only too well sounded from one of the dark corners of the room.

"Well, well. Sleeping Beauty's finally awake. Nice of you to join the land of the living, Frankie."

Frank looked over to the corner of the room to see Gerard sitting in a desk chair, hands folded and smirking.

"I was afraid I'd given you too much and you'd died."

"Fuck you," Frank moaned, a horrible pain erupting in his head. "How long was I asleep?"

The older man ignored the insult and looked up as if in deep thought before replying, "A week."

If Frank had been drinking anything at that moment, he would've choked on it. "A WEEK?!"

Gerard smiled sweetly at him. "Well if I didn't knock you out, how else would I have gotten you here?"

Frank began to feel nauseated. He started fumbling for the doorknob behind him, finally finding it and throwing the door open. He stumbled through the doorway and began dizzily feeling his way down the much brighter hallway. With the gravity of his situation finally sinking in, Frank broke into a shaky sprint, stopping at the stairs and looking behind him.

Gerard was about ten feet behind Frank, so he had to act now. Gathering up all of his strength and courage, he jumped down the entire flight of stairs, crashing to the ground and rolling when he hit the landing. His arm now hurting like an absolute bitch, he pushed himself to keep going.

He tore through what looked to be the living room and bounded through the kitchen, at last making it to the door. He pulled it open with every ounce of strength he had left and gawked.

Outside the door was a porch, but beyond the porch were fields upon fields of corn. _'This has to be a joke,'_ Frank thought. He looked around only to be met with more corn.

Frank felt a strong arm wrap itself around his stomach, pulling him into the broad chest behind him.

Gerard.

"You can't run away if the only escape route's a maze," the raven haired man taunted.

He slammed the door shut and locked it, wrapping his other arm around Frank's stomach, hoisting him into the air.

"Alright, let's get you some breakfast," Gerard said, glancing at the clock on the stove. "Or lunch, considering it's two in the afternoon."

Frank didn't even notice that his stomach was growling, but now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten in a week.

Gerard set him down on one of the wooden chairs at the small kitchen table, giving him a stern "Don't even think about moving from that spot."

Frank just watched Gerard with wide, frightened eyes as he moved around the kitchen, putting ingredients together to make a sandwich. When he was done, he placed the plate down in front of Frank, along with a glass of soda, and slipped into the chair next to Frank.

Frank stared at the sandwich, noting the fact that it had bacon on it.

"It's vegan bacon," Gerard started. "Y'know, since you're a vegetarian and all."

Unnerved that Gerard knew that about him, he began picking at the sandwich, taking small nibbles here and there. He also noticed Gerard's hand lingering awfully close to his cup, but took nothing of it.

After about ten minutes, Frank finally finished his sandwich. Gerard shoved the soda at Frank. "Don't forget your drink."

Frank gulped it down, automatically starting to feel a little weird. His hazel eyes widened and he shot off towards the bathroom he saw before, slamming the door shut behind him. He barely even made it to the toilet before he began heaving his guts up, coughing and sputtering. After the minuscule amount of food in his stomach was gone, he continued to dry heave for a minute or two before finally collapsing against the bathtub.

Gerard opened the door to the bathroom when he heard Frank was finished and knelt down next to him. He reached up and flushed the toilet, the loud whooshing noise of the water filling the silent room. The taller man reached down and brushed Frank's sweaty hair away from his face, the strands sticking to his forehead. Frank tried to move away from the offending touch, but all of his energy was gone.

Gerard moved to stroke Frank's cheek before backhanding him harshly across the face.

"That was for trying to run away," Gerard seethed, his previously concerned face now contorted with rage.

"Y-You fucking p-poisoned me?" the smaller man stuttered, feeling as if he might be sick again. He bent over the toilet again, releasing the last bits of food in his stomach, flushing it down when he was done. Gerard simply stared.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it, only to open it again. "I think it's time I teach you the rules," he barely whispered, grabbing Frank's arm and putting it around his shoulder. Frank moaned in pain as Gerard lifted him from the cool tile of the floor, walking him up the stairs and down the hall, into the room he woke up in.

The curtains were now open, allowing the afternoon sunshine to pour into the dusty room. Gerard set Frank down on the bed, pulling the covers over him before sitting down on the bed next to him.

"Now Frankie, if we're going to be able to get along, you need to follow a few rules around here," Gerard started, taking a deep breath. "No phone, no Internet, no going outside unless I tell you to, and if anyone comes to the door, you stay in this room. Okay?"

Frank nodded, his bleary eyes wide and terrified. Gerard smiled and stood up, heading towards the door. He stopped in the doorway and turned around to face Frank, a look on his face that Frank had never seen before; almost as if he regretted what he was doing.

Almost.

"Oh, and Frankie? If you ever even /think/ about trying to escape again, I will break every single bone in that beautiful little body of yours. Do you understand me, sugar?" he asked, his voice low and threatening.

Frank, who suddenly began to feel incredibly drained besides the fact that he'd just slept for a week, nodded sleepily, though still very aware of what Gerard said. But did that make him want to try and escape any less?

Absolutely not.

Sure, it would require a lot of planning to sneak past Gerard's watchful eye, but Frank really thought he'd be able to pull off an escape; and by the way things looked now, it was escape or die.

"Good." Gerard turned and walked out the door, turning off the lights and locking the door from the outside.

Frank's eyelids eventually felt too heavy, so he finally gave in and allowed them to close completely, sending Frank back to the depths of his mind.

. . .

When Frank woke up what felt like hours later, the sick feeling in his stomach was gone, along with the pounding headache. As he rolled over to look out the window, he expected to see the house across the street from his and the large oak tree that grew outside his window, but he was instead greeted with the same corn fields he saw earlier.

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing Gerard in his usual all black attire. Upon seeing the raven haired man, Frank threw the covers off of him and stood up.

"I thought you might want some breakfast."

Frank blinked at him. "You're kidding me, right?"

Gerard chuckled and began taking small steps towards Frank. "Don't worry; I'm not going to poison it."

Frank let out a shaky breath he didn't even realize he was holding and nodded.

Gerard walked out of the room, motioning for Frank to follow. Gerard stood outside the door, waiting for Frank. The two walked through the long hallway and down the stairs, Gerard keeping a warning arm around Frank at all times. When they finally made it to the kitchen, Frank sat down in the chair he was in before, a breakfast of eggs, toast, grapefruit, and coffee in front of him.

Gerard sat across from Frank, motioning for the boy to eat as he dug into his own breakfast. Gerard noticed Frank picking up a spoon for the grapefruit but not the sugar. "You might wanna put a little sugar-" he started, but Frank already had half of the fruit gone, his stomach empty as it was. "-on that."

Frank looked up at Gerard, his cheeks filled with eggs. Gerard couldn't help but laugh at how adorable the younger man looked.

The two ate together in silence until Frank brought up a question that'd been bothering him ever since he arrived at the house. "Um...Gerard?" he questioned, nervous to what the man's reaction would be.

"Mmm?" the older man replied.

"You're not gonna um...rape me or anything, right?"

Gerard spit his coffee all over the table, a look of disbelief on his face. "I know I'm a lot of terrible things, but if there's one thing I absolutely am not, it is a rapist."

"Oh, sorry." Frank muttered, completely and utterly confused.

"Plus," Gerard began. "I wouldn't even _think_ about having sex with you until you're at least eighteen."

Now it was Frank's turn to spit his coffee everywhere. "Eighteen?! You're keeping me here for two more years?!"

Gerard let out a very high pitched laugh, a single tear rolling down his face. "Of course not!" Frank sighed in relief. "Silly Frankie! I'm keeping you here forever and ever!"

And that was when Frank fainted.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

. . .

"Frankie..."

Frank's eyelids fluttered but remained shut.

"It's time to wake up, Frankie..."

Cool fingers brushed against Frank's forehead, checking his temperature. Gerard was worried about him; he'd just passed out at the table. Surely that wasn't a good sign. The raven haired man prayed to anybody who was listening that there wasn't anything wrong with his sweet little Frankie.

Frank groaned and rolled over, the bed he was on giving a familiar yet not so comforting squeak. His hazel eyes slowly cracked open and he came face to face with Gerard. Frank yelped in surprise and fell off the side of the tiny bed, a painful crunch sounding from his back. Groaning again, he looked up to see Gerard leaning over the side of the bed, his face twisted in concern.

"Well that didn't sound very good," he mused. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, only to bend over and scoop the small boy on the floor into his arms. Frank, surprised by the older man's strength, tried to wrench the slender arms from around him, but Gerard held tight.

He kicked open the bedroom door and continued down the hallway, turning into a room that looked to be the master bathroom, setting Frank down on the closed toilet.

"Stay," Gerard said firmly, turning and walking out again. This gave Frank a chance to look around.

The bathroom was clean and bright. The floor was tiled with tiny white squares which went halfway up the walls before turning into light blue paint. A strip of wallpaper with roosters on it ran along the tops of the walls like a border. The sink was made of porcelain which sparkled under the lights. A bottle of lavender scented soap sat on the counter top next to a blue toothbrush and tube of mint toothpaste.

Gerard entered the bathroom again, this time carrying a mound of clothes. "I took these from your room when I brought you here. I hope you don't mind."

Of course Frank minded.

"Why are we in the bathroom?" He asked. He knew the answer but part of him hoped Gerard would say different.

"You need a shower." He set Frank's clothes down on the floor and ripped back the sunflower-print shower curtain, twisting the knobs until water poured from the shower head. Steam began to drift around the room.

"You're not taking one with me, right?" Frank cringed, waiting for the answer.

"No. I think you're old enough to take one on your own," Gerard giggled. "Get dressed when you're done." He started to walk out the open door before turning back. "Oh, and don't try anything stupid. I'll be right outside the door," He said, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him.

Frank began to undress, pulling his shirt over his head and his pants and boxers down before kicking them off. He was just about to step into the inviting flow of hot water when his reflection in the mirror caught his eye. Backing up, Frank stood in front of the mirror again, taking in his pale face and purple bags under his eyes. His dark hair was stringy with grease. He turned around to see his back, which now sported a large, angry purple bruise across the middle from his recent encounter with the floor. Frank reached a hand around to touch it, wincing in pain as he did. _'Oh yeah,_' he thought_. 'That's gonna be there for a while.'_

Turning back to the shower, Frank slowly ducked into the steady stream of water, the temperature hot enough to relax his muscles but not to burn him. Closing his eyes, he breathed in a sigh of content; nothing could hurt him here.

Just as he thought that, a heavy bottle of shampoo fell on Frank's toe, breaking him out of his fog. "Sonuvabitch!" He shrieked, picking up the culprit of his now injured toe- a bottle of his shampoo from his house.

He grabbed a bottle of conditioner. His too.

Despite the steaming water, Frank was now trembling. His eyes were wide and terrified as he heard the bathroom door open.

"Everything alright?" Gerard asked.

_'No, you lunatic, you broke into my house, kidnapped me, and stole my shit.'_

"Yeah, everything's fine!" Frank answered back, his voice echoing off the shower walls.

"You sure?"

"Sure!" The door closed again.

. . .

It would've taken Frank all of five minutes to shower and wash his hair, but due to his hands trembling so badly, it took him about fifteen.

Turning off the water, Frank stepped out of the tub and into the steam filled bathroom. The mirror was now covered in fog and Frank sighed in relief of not having to see his own reflection again.

Toweling his hair dry, Frank pulled on the black boxers and black skinny jeans Gerard had brought him, along with a black t-shirt and brown cardigan. Frank looked in the mirror, deciding on just letting his hair go the way it was; it's not like he was seeing anyone besides Gerard all day.

Frank opened the door and Gerard turned to see him, letting out a small purr when he saw the way Frank's jeans hugged the younger's thighs.

"Frankie, I have a little treat in store for you today," the older man smiled, practically bouncing with excitement.

"What?" Frank asked cautiously.

"We're going-wait for it-shopping!"

Frank stared at Gerard.

"Shopping!" Gerard repeated in the same highly exaggerated voice. "And we can go out for lunch!"

Frank just kept staring.

Gerard's face fell. "Frankie," he said, a hint of warning in his tone. "Frank, talk to me."

"I don't want to go shopping." Frank's voice was emotionless.

"Oh," Gerard started, slightly taken aback. "Well, we can go another day. Is there anywhere you do want to go?"

"Home."

The older man's expression darkened and Frank could see the flames in his eyes. "I already told you, Frank. You are not going home. You live here now with me."

"But I don't want to live here," Frank protested. "I want to go back to my family, to my friends." He took a breath. "To my life."

"What if they all died? Then would you want to go back?" Gerard's voice took on a deep, menacing tone.

Frank's eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'o' before being pulled into a scowl. "What the fuck is your _problem?" _Frank asked incredulously. "You think I wanna live with a fucking lunatic like you?"

Gerard walked straight up to Frank, grabbing the younger's collar and slamming him against the wall, Frank wincing as his head was cracked against it.

"Take that back. Take that back right now!" Gerard all but screamed into Frank's face.

"No! It's fucking true and you know it! You're a psycho that thinks it's okay to go around kidnapping people and keeping them at their house! You need help!"

"After all I've fucking done for you!"

Frank laughed a cruel, heartless laugh. "You've never done anything for me! You kidnapped me, poisoned me, and threatened me for fuck's sake!"

Gerard's eyes went from hazel to black, and his face morphed into an expression of pure rage. "You little bitch! I'll fucking kill you!" He boomed, wrapping his slender fingers around Frank's delicate throat. Frank's eyes bugged and he gasped, trying with all his strength to pry Gerard's fingers off of him to no avail. Deciding he had no choice, Frank brought his foot back and swung it up, nailing Gerard right between the legs. The rage left his face, replaced with a pained look as the man bent over, grabbing himself and moaning in agony.

Frank shot off, but not before Gerard could compose himself and throw his body on top of Frank's smaller one, tackling the poor boy to the floor. Frank groaned and tried to throw Gerard off of him, but the latter rolled the boy over, sitting firmly on his hips.

Frank's eyes widened as Gerard's fist connected with his cheek. Blow upon blow rained down on his face until it was almost completely purple on one side. Gerard stood, grabbing Frank by the neck and keeping hold of him as they made their way back into the bathroom.

Gerard sat Frank down on the toilet, silently sorting through the cabinet above the sink. Bringing out a bottle of disinfectant, Gerard opened a drawer, pulling out a washcloth and putting it under the faucet.

He knelt between Frank's legs, taking the now dripping washcloth and dabbing Frank's bleeding lip with it. Frank whimpered in fear as he did this, afraid of what Gerard might do next. The older man wiped away blood from a cut under Frank's blackening eye, his face giving no hints to his intentions. Taking out the disinfectant, Gerard rubbed at the cuts with a cotton ball, Frank wincing at the sting.

"You know Frankie," he started, breaking the silence. "I was really beginning to think I could trust you."

"Please, Gerard," Frank whispered, closing his eyes. "Please, I'm sorry."

Gerard hummed and closed the bottle of disinfectant, signaling he was finished taking care of Frank's wounds. "Too late for apologies, hun. The damage is done."

Gerard took Frank by the wrist, half walking-half dragging the whimpering teen down the hallway. Turning into Frank's room, Gerard threw the boy down on the bed. Frank would've run but he was too scared to even breathe at the moment.

Gerard opened the drawer in the nightstand next to the bed, digging through until he found what he was looking for. He held the object up for Frank to see, said boy's eyes widening in terror at the crude things.

A pair of handcuffs.

Gerard attached one cuff around the iron headboard of the bed, clicking the other around Frank's right wrist, causing him to be able to move but not be able to leave the bed. Frank whimpered as Gerard made his way towards the door.

"No, Gerard please! I'm sorry! Please don't leave me in here! I'll do anything!" Frank pleaded the man.

Gerard shook his head. "Too late for apologies," he said again. "Goodnight, sugar. Don't let the bedbugs bite." He chuckled and winked at the now trembling boy handcuffed to the bed, turning off the lights and slamming the door shut behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Maybe

. . .

Frank didn't sleep at all that night. His arm was sore from being held above his head for so long and Gerard's last words were still ringing through his skull. He had been crying for the first hour or so, but the tears were now drying around his eyes, creating an annoying crust.

After Gerard had left Frank in his room, Frank heard him screaming and shouting in rage downstairs. It was something along the lines of "Dirty good-for-nothing bastard! I do everything for him! Why can't he love me instead?" The last part had confused Frank, making him cry even more when he'd hear the crashes of Gerard throwing things at walls.

Now the house was eerily quiet. Frank wondered whether Gerard had calmed down or passed out. He could hear the faucet dripping in the bathroom down the hall and it was driving him crazy, plus the fact that it was so dark in the room that Frank couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face.

"Gerard?" He called out softly.

No answer.

"Gerard?" He said again, this time louder.

He heard loud footsteps stomping up the stairs and Gerard mumbling to himself as he made his way down the hallway. The door slammed open, hitting the wall next to it with a bang. "What." It wasn't a question but a statement.

Gerard looked horrible. His face was grey and his long hair was tangled and sticking up in random places. His eyes were bloodshot and his lips cracked. His right hand was bright red from punching so many walls.

"Can you please un-cuff me?" Frank pleaded. "I can't feel my arm."

"No. Too bad," Gerard grunted angrily, turning to leave before quickly turning back around as Frank burst into tears. Frank didn't know what had gotten into him; he just cracked.

"Puh-please Gerard! I'm so s-sorry! I didn't mean to h-hurt y-you!"

Gerard's expression softened and he rushed over to Frank, taking his face in his hands and shushing him like a mother would with her baby. "Hey sugar, it's alright. It's okay. Don't cry. Please don't cry. C'mon Frankie, please don't cry!"

The tears kept pouring down Frank's face and loud sobs were emitting from his mouth. He was shaking violently and his hair was stuck to his face.

Frank's sobs stopped abruptly when he felt something pressed against his lips. Frank's eyes snapped open to see Gerard's face in front of his, pressing his lips against Frank's. Unconsciously, Frank began kissing back, closing his eyes. He felt Gerard bring his hand up and run it through Frank's dark hair before Frank realized what he was doing and pulled away sharply, smacking his head against the headboard.

Gerard slowly opened his eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. "I might have to break that promise of not touching you until you're eighteen," He whispered breathily, moving in towards Frank once again.

Frank's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he curled into a ball against the headboard, trying in vain to move as far away from Gerard as he could.

The older man climbed on top of the younger, taking his chin between two fingers. "Don't worry, sugar, I'll make it feel _real_ good."

Frank's breathing increased rapidly as he brought his free hand back, forming a fist and throwing it at Gerard, nailing him in the mouth. Gerard instantly brought his hand up to his now bleeding lip, staring at the blood on his palm. "Oh, you shouldn't have done that," He hissed, grabbing Frank by the hair and smacking his head against the headboard.

Dazed, Frank watched helplessly as Gerard took his free hand in his grasp, opening the handcuffs and threading them through the headboard, clicking them back around both Frank's wrists. Gerard reached into the back pocket of his skinny jeans, bringing out the pocket knife he kept there. He brought it to Frank's throat, laying the blade against the delicate skin, pressing down just hard enough to draw blood.

"Beg me not to go deeper," He demanded.

Frank groaned in pain. "Please don't."

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you?"

"Please!" Frank sobbed. "Please don't hurt me!"

Gerard patted the boy's cheek. "That's better. Now sit there like a good boy. I'll try not to make this hurt _too_ much."

Just as Gerard began trying to unbutton Frank's pants, the doorbell rang downstairs. Gerard's eyes narrowed and he let out a huff, getting up off the petrified boy beneath him. "Saved by the bell."

He got up and exited the room, leaving an extremely distraught Frank in his wake. The boy heard voices coming from downstairs and the door shut, Gerard's footsteps marching back up the stairs. He re-entered the room.

"UPS guy," He mumbled, taking a key from his pocket and unlocking Frank's hands from the bed. He immediately jumped to the other side of the room, cowering against the wall. "Oh, Frankie," He pouted, walking over to where the boy was trying to disappear into the wall. "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me." He leaned forward to plant a kiss on his lips then stopped, only to move forward and stop again. He stood up and walked to the other side of the room, pacing. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, his eyes wide and crazed.

"You want to kiss him. No you don't. No, you want to feel him, hear him scream. No! You want to kill him! No I don't! Yes you do! No, I love him! Shut up! I'm not the one talking! You are! Stop it!" Gerard screamed, gripping his hair so tight it looked as if he'd pull it all out in a matter of seconds. Frank watched with wide, terrified eyes as his kidnapper argued with himself.

Gerard collapsed to the floor, gripping his ebony hair and rocking back and forth. He screamed over and over again, tears flowing from his eyes. "Stop it! Get out of my head!" He screeched. He turned to Frank, causing the younger boy to flinch.

Frank took one look at Gerard's face, seeing something he never saw there before; something young and innocent and _scared_. The man slowly crawled over to where Frank was sitting, caressing his cheek in his silky palm. His hazel eyes no longer burned with hate and desire, but with innocence and fear. He slowly parted his chapped lips, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"Am I crazy, Frankie?"

"I don't know, Gerard," Frank whispered. He knew he was crazy, of course he did. But he wasn't going to _tell_ him that.

Gerard snuggled into Frank's chest, breathing in the smell of fabric softener. He sighed in contentment. "I love you, Frankie."

Frank leaned down to kiss the top of the older man's head. "I love you too, Gerard."

In that minute, maybe, just _maybe_, Frank really did love Gerard.

Maybe.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I forgot to put my note on the last chapter so here it is. Okay so I haven't posted in a while because I honestly kinda forgot. Sorry. ;-; Honestly I have been doing nothing but studying, watching Doctor Who, and blogging. Oops. But since I haven't posted here's two chapters yay.**

**Also 4 MONTHS UNTIL WARPED TOUR OMG I'M GOING THIS YEAR AND IT'S GOING TO BE AMAZING. I can't wait omg. **

**And I have a crush on a guy. This is terrible. I can't deal with these feelings right now it's too much nope.**

**But yeah I hope you enjoy this and yep.**

…

Chapter 6

I Won't Run

. . .

Contentment.

For the first time in days, Frank Iero felt content. He was sitting on the soft, slightly worn couch in the living room, Gerard's arm slung loosely around him. He yawned and laid his head on the older man's shoulder, almost completely forgetting that the man had kidnapped him and beat him.

The TV in front of the men cast a soft glow throughout the otherwise dark room, making it seem almost peaceful. Gerard looked down at Frank, a small smile gracing his lips as he ran his hand through the boy's soft locks.

Gerard finally broke the silence, voicing the question that had been plaguing his mind the past few hours. "Hey, Frankie?"

Frank hummed in acknowledgment.

"Did you mean it?"

Frank turned his head and smiled up at Gerard. "Did I mean what?"

"Did you mean it when you told me you loved me?"

Frank's eyes widened in memory of what he'd said earlier. "Y-yeah. Yeah, I meant it," He stuttered nervously. He didn't want to upset Gerard right now. They were actually getting along.

Gerard didn't seem to pick up on Frank's nervousness. He took Frank's chin and brought his face up to meet his, bringing their lips together in a slow kiss. Frank kissed back hesitantly, flinching automatically when Gerard pulled away. He noticed.

"Frankie," He started, his expression sad. "Are you-are you _scared_ of me?"

Frank cast his eyes downward, playing with a string on his cardigan. Gerard's eyebrows knitted together and he wrapped his thin arms around Frank.

"Oh, Frankie. I didn't want you to be _afraid_ of me; I just wanted you to respect me." Tears formed in his eyes, the dim light from the TV glinting off the tiny water droplets. "What can I do?"

Frank looked back to Gerard, his answer obvious in his eyes. "Please, Gerard."

"No," Gerard stated firmly. "I already told you that I'm not letting you go."

Frank sighed, defeated, and turned away from Gerard, pulling his legs up and hugging them to his chest. He felt the wetness of tears form in his eyes, quickly wiping them away so Gerard couldn't see.

Gerard frowned. "Aw, c'mon Frankie. Don't be like that."

Frank whimpered.

Gerard snaked his arms around Frank's waist, bringing him back to lie on his chest. He pressed his lips to the back of the boy's neck, rubbing his hand up and down his arm. "It's all gonna be alright, sweetheart. Don't you worry about anything."

The previously ignored news reporter on the TV suddenly grabbed both Gerard and Frank's attention.

_'Sixteen-year-old Frank Iero disappeared from his home on the seventeenth of May. Police say that Iero was last seen in Maple Street Park and that they are doing everything in their power to bring him home. Mother Linda Iero spoke with us earlier.'_

The sobbing face of Linda Iero appeared in the camera, speaking into a microphone and dabbing at her running mascara.

_'Please, Frankie,'_ She choked. _'Please come home! I miss you so much! Please, for the love of everything that is good, come home!'_

The next person to speak surprised Frank more than anything.

Jamia.

_'Frank, I know I've said some hurtful things to you, but please, come home. I'm sorry and I'm willing to work things out, but please, don't keep this up. Come back.'_

The news reporter droned on and on about ongoing investigations into Frank's disappearance, but it all went unheard by the two men on the couch.

Frank's eyes were wide, tears brimming at the edges. He was trembling and taking shaky breaths, finally letting out a choked sob. Gerard, however, was trembling in anger, his boyish features drawn into a deep scowl. He gave a scream of rage and pushed Frank off of him, storming out of the room and up the stairs, slamming what was probably his bedroom door. Frank cowered in the corner of the couch before slowly standing up, taking short steps toward the stairs. He began his journey up the long flight of steps, wondering just how he'd managed to jump down them without killing himself. He came to a stop outside of Gerard's door.

The door was just like the rest- white and made of wood. But this door gave off a sort of vibe that chilled Frank to the very bone. He brought his knuckles up and gently knocked, taking the doorknob in his other hand and twisting. The door opened to reveal the most disturbing scene Frank had ever witnessed in his sixteen and a half years of existence.

Gerard was sitting on his bed, tears dripping down his pale face. In his hands he held a lighter and a picture, slowly bringing the flickering flame to meet the side of the photo, watching it burn with a satisfied smirk. Frank came to stand behind him, gasping in horror when he saw the photo.

It was of him and Jamia, and Gerard was burning off the side with her on it. Gerard spoke, his voice calm and devoid of any emotion.

"I've always loved fire; so beautiful yet so destructive. It can bring light to anyone's eyes, but can destroy almost anything in its path. It's just like me." He turned to face Frank. "Tell me you love me."

Frank stared at the man in terror, backing up a few feet. The light from the fire danced across Gerard's face, glinting dangerously off his marble-like eyes. He took a step toward Frank, the photo still burning. "I-I love you."

Gerard smiled, the tears still pouring down his cheeks. "Good. Now tell me you hate _her."_

Frank whimpered. "I hate her," He lied.

Gerard laughed coldly. "Don't lie to me, Frank."

"B-but you t-told me to say it!" He cried, still backing up.

Gerard scoffed. "I told you to _lie?_ Never!" He smirked. "You're lying _again,_ aren't you? Tisk tisk, Frankie. I think somebody needs to be taught a lesson."

Gerard advanced toward Frank, stomping the photo out with his foot. Frank screamed and ran, seeing another door. He ripped it open and slammed it behind him, locking the deadbolt on it. Frank searched for a light switch in the dark room. Finally, he found the chain, yanking it down as light erupted into the room. His mouth fell open in awe.

Every piece of wall space in the room was covered in newspaper articles. Moving forward, Frank read the headline of one.

**Woman's Body Found In Pond**

He moved on to the next.

**Investigations into Murders Continue**

Frank eyed more articles, seeing that they also had something to do with the body of a girl being found. Backing into the center of the room, Frank stared around him in horror. _What was this room?_

Suddenly, the door burst open to reveal Gerard, who was waving a key at Frank, that same smirk still on his face until he noticed Frank's expression. His lips fell into a frown and his eyes darkened.

"G-Gerard?"

"Frank."

Frank swallowed. "What is this place?"

Gerard looked around at the articles, taking a deep breath and grabbing Frank's arm. He led him back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He sat him on the bed, locking the bedroom door before joining him.

"Now, Frank," He began, looking the boy in the eye. "When I tell you this, I don't want you running off, okay?"

Frank nodded.

"Good. Alright." He drew in a shaky breath, taking Frank's shoulders in his hands. He looked the boy in the eyes, jade meeting hazel. Frank's eyes searched the raven haired man's but found nothing but hatred and...shame?

"I'm a serial killer."

Frank literally froze. His breathing stopped and he didn't move a muscle, but his mind was running a million miles a minute.

"Frank?" Gerard eyed the boy warily. He brought his hands up to cup his face. "Frankie? You alright?" Frank just stared.

His lips slowly parted. "You killed them all?"

Gerard nodded, looking down.

"But _why?"_

The killer stood up, staring at himself in the mirror and leaning heavily on his dresser. The man staring back at him was so foreign, so cold. He felt as if he were looking at his soul instead of just his reflection. "I knew you wouldn't understand. I shouldn't have told you."

Frank shook his head. "No, please tell me!"

Gerard turned to Frank, sitting back on the bed with him. "How do I know you won't just run if I tell you? I don't want you to be scared of me, Frank. Please, don't be afraid."

Frank moved closer to the man. "I promise I won't run away. And I won't be afraid of you. Now please, tell me?"

Gerard sighed. "When I was seventeen, something awful happened that made me the way I am today. My dad," Gerard closed his eyes. "My dad brought a hooker into the house late at night. My little brother, Mikey, heard them and went downstairs." At this point, tears were starting to make their way down Gerard's face.

"My _father,_" He spat the word with as much venom as he could muster at the moment. "He didn't want Mikey to say anything, so he took a hammer and _whipped_ it at him- his son, my brother, his _flesh and blood._ I saw the whole thing." He turned to Frank, the tears now coming down in bucketfuls. He gripped the blankets in his fists. "I saw the whole thing and I didn't do _anything._ It's _my_ fault my little brother's _dead!"_ He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "And you know what I did next? I took that hammer and _beat_ my scumbag of a father with it. The whore ran off. But you know what? That's okay! That's okay because I found the slut a week later behind a bar and I _killed her, too."_

Frank was staring at Gerard with wide eyes. The man expected him to run now that he just divulged his entire life story to the boy. But he didn't run. What he did surprised Gerard so much that he actually began to cry harder.

Frank brought a hand up to cup Gerard's cheek, muttering a soft, "I'm not going to run." He wrapped his arms around the taller man, cringing as the sobs increased.

"I never wanted it to be this way!" He sobbed.

"Were they all prostitutes?" Frank asked. He felt Gerard nod against his shoulder. He pulled back, looking at Frank with tormented hazel eyes.

"I have no family that loves me, no friends, and no life besides killing. I'm nobody, Frankie. Just another plague to society. But you know what? That's alright because I have _you, _and my Frankie will _never_ leave my side!" Gerard squeezed Frank, rocking back and forth with him as if he were nothing but some oversized stuffed animal.

Frank felt his stomach drop at his words. Part of him knew he wasn't going home, but he didn't actually want to believe it. He still dreamed of seeing his friends and family again, of going to that hellhole of a school. But he now had to accept the fact that he never would. This was his new life.

But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

He didn't want to think about it, but ignoring it was like trying to escape the inevitable; he knew it was there, but he didn't want to accept it.

Frank cared about Gerard.

The man had repeatedly threatened him, almost raped him, kidnapped him, and abused him, but Frank still cared about this man. He knew what it was like to feel completely isolated from the rest of the world; cut off from everyday human interactions. He understood, and he was going to stay here with Gerard, even if it wasn't necessarily by choice.

No, not a bad thing at all.

…

**Cookies for you if you spotted my Pencey Prep reference. c:**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey guys, so I just wanted to put this note in to say that I'm working on a Doctor Who fic and I should have the first chapter up in a while. It's called The Girl Who Could Fly. c: Enjoy guys!**

Chapter 7

Trust Issues

. . .

The next morning, Frank awoke to a tugging sensation on his ankle. He kicked, shaking off whatever it was, only for it to return again. He groaned and rolled over, fringe flopping over the pillows. He gripped the bed sheets, noticing a silkier texture that did not belong to the sheets in his room. He spread out a little more, ignoring the tugging on his leg. The bed he was in wasn't his; it was bigger and softer and didn't give that annoying creak whenever he moved. Then he remembered.

He was in Gerard's bed.

He, Frank Iero, had slept in the same bed as a maniac last night. Gerard could've done /anything/ to him while he was asleep. He struggled to remember the night before, squeezing his eyes shut and digging into the deepest crevices of his brain.

The newscast. The screaming. The photo. The fire. The room full of newspaper articles. It all came rushing back to Frank in one big wave, overwhelming him. He and Gerard had talked into the late hours of the night. Gerard had told Frank that his brother was dead, that his father had killed him. He'd said that he then beat his father.

He told Frank that he was a killer.

Frank's eyes snapped open and he shot up, the blankets pooling around his waist. He felt a breeze and looked down, noticing that he was clad only in his boxers. _'Oh, god. What happened last night?_' he thought, dreading the answer.

Gerard's smiling face at the foot of the bed brought him out of his thoughts. "Morning, Frankie!" he giggled, continuing to fiddle with Frank's ankle, confirming the boy's suspicions of what was causing the tugging.

"Gerard?" Frank rasped, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing? What happened last night? We didn't do anything, did we?"

Gerard chuckled, pulling out a screwdriver and continuing to work at what Frank saw as a device attached to his ankle. "No, we didn't have sex last night, if that's what you're wondering. And if you really must know, I'm just doing some things to give me some more...reassurance, you could say."

"What does that mean?" Frank asked suspiciously, sitting up and gaping at the device. "Gerard, what is that?" the boy whimpered, fear gripping him suddenly.

Gerard's smile remained and he shushed the trembling boy on the bed. "Shh, it's not a big deal. Calm down, babe." He pulled back. "There. All done."

Frank hesitantly leaned down and tapped the device, looking up at Gerard in confusion.

"It's an anklet, Frankie. I just wanted to make sure you don't run off on me. I never want my Frankie to leave me." He smiled slightly, running his long fingers through Frank's soft black locks. "Basically, if you go past the front porch, this anklet shocks you. If you go within a ten foot radius of the porch, the anklet starts to beep as a warning."

Frank simply stared at Gerard in disbelief. Tears were now beginning to make their way down his pale face. "I was just beginning to think we could trust each other," the boy whimpered. "I guess I was wrong. You don't trust me at all."

Gerard shook his head. "No, no, no, sweetie. I trust you, I really do. I just want to have some sort of reassurance that you won't change your mind and run." He took the crying boy's hand between his larger ones. "Oh, baby. Oh, sugar, it's alright. It's okay. Come on, hun. Gerard will make you some breakfast." He threw Frank a pile of clothes, the boy putting them on quickly.

Frank wiped at his eyes, glaring at Gerard. "How do I know you won't put something in it, huh? How do I know you won't drug me again?"

Gerard said nothing, his lips drawn in a thin line. He grabbed Frank's hand and stood, attempting to pull the boy towards the door, but Frank wouldn't have it. He dug his feet into the plush carpeting, grabbing onto the bedpost. Gerard yanked harder, the boy's grip slipping, causing him to crash into the taller's chest, who immediately wrapped his arms around him. "I'm sorry, Frankie. Please, do you think you can learn to trust me again?" Gerard pleaded, eyes searching the shorter's own hazel orbs. Frank scowled. The older man frowned, his sad expression showing his defeat.

He grabbed Frank's hand again, bringing him out into the hallway and downstairs, making their way into the kitchen, the boy grimacing the whole time. Gerard left him stand in the middle of the large kitchen while he worked about on the counter, preparing breakfast. He began humming a tune under his breath which Frank couldn't be bothered trying to name right now. All of his focus was on the door not even fifteen feet away. Sneaking a glance back at Gerard, he noticed the raven haired man was too busy and caught up in his own world to know what Frank was doing. The boy slowly turned back around and began inching towards the door, one step at a time.

He didn't dare breath. One little noise could alert Gerard of his escape attempt, and Frank really was not in the mood for the killer to lash out at him.

Frank willed the floor not to creak, his heart stopping when he heard Gerard drop a pan. He looked back at him to see him pick it up, cursing and returning to his work. He continued tip toeing along the tile until he finally made it to the door. He was just about to reach it, his fingers just about to wrap around the brass knob of freedom when-

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep!_

Frank heard Gerard drop the pan again, this time instead yelling a, "Frank! Where do you think you're going?" Frank screamed and jiggled the door handle, the knob becoming a hundred times harder to twist in his panic. He finally wrenched it open, throwing himself out onto the porch and catching himself on the banister. He turned, seeing Gerard rushing towards him. Completely forgetting about the shrieking anklet, Frank dove down the steps and onto the dusty ground, rolling and feeling a horrible sense of deja vu.

He quickly got to his feet and ran, barely even making it three feet before he felt a burning sensation climbing up his leg. He looked down and saw the anklet flashing red, screeching in pain as the electricity traveled through him. He dropped to the ground, convulsing wildly while screaming for Gerard to make it stop. Finally, after a few seconds, the anklet stopped and Frank was left on the ground, gasping for breath. He squinted as a shadow loomed over him.

Gerard kneeled down next to the shaking boy, stroking his sweaty hair. He frowned and shook his head. "Maybe you're right, Frank." He stood up, bringing his foot back and kicking Frank hard in the ribs, the boy groaning in agony. "I can't trust you after all."

He leaned down, picking the boy up bridal style and carrying him back up the steps and into the house. He brought him back into the kitchen, throwing him into one of the chairs at the table, the younger letting out a small squeak. Gerard brought out a pair of handcuffs from a drawer behind him, looping them through the chair and attaching them around Frank's wrists, rendering him immobile.

"You'd be surprised how many pairs of these I have laying around the house," he chuckled, the smaller whimpering in fear. "Lady working the day I bought them all probably thought I was some fucking psychotic S&M freak." His eyes darkened and he licked his lips, eyeing Frank once more. "Which of course I am."

Frank's breathing quickened and he pulled on the chains binding him to the chair. Gerard kneeled so that he was eye level with the kid, taking his chin between his pale fingers. The older's jade eyes were filled with nothing but lust and anger, while Frank's were filled with fear and betrayal. Gerard stood, running his hands down the boy's thighs as he did.

"Now, are you gonna sit there like a good boy and let me finish cooking or am I gonna have to keep you there all day?" he purred, squeezing Frank's knee.

"Fuck you," he spat.

Gerard fluttered his long, black eyelashes at him, smirking devilishly. "Maybe later, sugar."

Frank looked taken aback. Even chained to a chair by a sex crazed psychopathic murderer, Frank Iero could still do one thing. His brought his foot back, swinging it forward and nailing Gerard right in the balls. Said man squeaked a little before falling on his side, gasping. He glared up at Frank, green eyes burning with rage.

"Oh, sugar, you just wait. Later on, you're dead meat."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews! I'm giving you two chapters again to get you caught up with my FicWad. I haven't been writing as much as I should be lately, but I'm trying. Enjoy!**

**Also, warning for this chapter. Dark themes like rape, abuse, that kind of stuff. So yeah…if that bothers you, don't read this. **

. . .

Chapter 8

I Think I'm Cracking Up

. . .

Silence filled the kitchen as Gerard and Frank ate their breakfast. Gerard had released his captive from the chains, trusting that Frank was too petrified of what was to come to even move. Frank trembled under the hard glare of his kidnapper, his fork clinking against his plate as his hand shook violently. Gerard's ever watchful green eyes stared Frank down as he drank from his coffee mug, their harsh glow silently warning Frank not to move.

Frank set his fork down with a loud clang, deciding he was too worried to eat. His stomach was doing flip-flops and his hair was plastered to his face with nervous sweat. He'd never seen the older man this angry. He knew he was in for a lot of pain.

Gerard cleared his throat, setting his now empty mug down. "Are you finished, Frank?" he questioned, his voice eerily calm. It was like the sky before a raging thunderstorm- calm, serene, just waiting to explode.

Frank nodded warily, hazel eyes watching Gerard's every move; he wanted to be prepared for any oncoming attack. But the killer did something even Frank didn't expect.

He stood up and violently whipped the tablecloth off the table, the dishes crashing to the tile and smashing into tiny pieces. He reached across the tiny table, grabbing the boy by his collar and pulling him across the surface. He pinned down his arms, leaning over him and casting a shadow across his frightened features. Frank whimpered and squirmed, causing Gerard to tighten his grip on the boy's upper arms, bruising the soft skin.

"You've been a bit rebellious, Frankie," he drawled, a devious smirk making its way onto his lips. "As hot as that may be, I don't tolerate it. I guess I'm gonna have ta' straighten ya' out a bit."

Frank fought harder against the man's grip, earning him a smack to his cheek. He stared up at Gerard, his hazel eyes filled with tears and a bright red hand print forming on his already bruised cheek. This image would tug at anyone's heartstrings and cause them to let the poor boy go, but not Gerard. Frank kicked his legs out, managing to nail Gerard in the shin a few times.

"How dare you hit me!" he shrieked, shaking the boy. "How dare you disrespect me? You think I won't punish you? Well, you've got another thing coming, Frank!" He grabbed at Frank's ankle, tugging it. "Normally I would keep my promise and break your bones like I said I would," His voice grew softer. "But I don't think you deserve that."

Frank's smile nearly split his face in half, he was so happy. "Th-thank you, Gerard! Thank you so- what are you doing?" Frank's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Gerard smirked again, the intentions behind the gesture so extremely rotten, even the devil himself would blush.

Gerard caressed the boy's cheek where he had struck him while grinding the growing bulge in his pants down on the kid's stomach. "Trust me, Frankie. I'm only doing what's best for you. If I don't punish you, how are you gonna learn?" Frank shook his head, gasping frantic "No's" as Gerard continued to molest him.

"Don't worry, sugar. You won't feel a _thing," _he chuckled cruelly.

Frank closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing his hands against Gerard's chest with all his strength. Said man stumbled off of Frank, stunned at the boy' sudden outburst. Frank ran through the kitchen doorway and into the living room, climbing over the couch that he and Gerard had sat on the night of the news report about his disappearance. He shot up the stairs and into the first room in the hallway, which just so happened to be Gerard's bedroom. He slammed the door and locked it, sitting with his back against it. He panted, attempting to catch his breath, the adrenaline flooding through his veins. He cringed with every loud footstep Gerard took up the stairs, regretting kicking the kidnapper in his manhood before. Silence was the only thing Frank heard on the other side of the door; not Gerard's breathing which became raspy when he was angry, no footsteps. He pressed his ear against the door, actually thinking the man had calmed down and left when-

"OPEN THE DOOR, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Several vicious pounds came from the other side of the door, Gerard's fist banging against the wood. The handle jingled as he violently twisted it, pounding against the door with his shoulder.

Frank pushed against it with his back as hard as possible, lips trembling with absolute horror. An especially hard bang threw Frank from the door and he backed up against the bed frame, watching as the door shook from Gerard's constant charging.

"I WARNED YOU NOT TO RUN! NOW YOU NEED TO PAY THE PRICE!"

Silence.

"YOU BITCH! YOU JUST WAIT. I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

With one last aggressive push to the door, the wood finally gave way and Gerard came crashing in, seething eyes focused on the trembling figure on the floor. His lips split into an evil grin and he stalked over to his victim, lifting him up by his hair. Terrified hazel eyes met raging green ones.

"Oh, Frankie. When are you gonna learn?"

Frank whimpered. "I'm so sorry, Gerard. Please, I'm so incredibly sorry. I'll be so good from now on and I won't try to run away ever again, just please, _please_ don't hurt me anymore."

Gerard smiled sweetly, his voice filled with mock sympathy. "Why? Is wittle Fwankie scared?" He threw his head back and cackled, throwing the boy onto the bed like a rag doll. Frank stared up at the smirking man, the dim light causing his body to be nothing but a silhouette. The only visible features were the bright white teeth and the glittering jade eyes.

"When I'm done with you, oh sugar, you won't even be able to _breathe_ without being in some sort of pain," he purred. He slowly made his way to the bed, his captive backing up into the headboard, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. He ripped his belt from the loops, wrapping it around the boy's wrists and through the headboard, rendering him helpless.

Frank was defeated. He didn't want to be beaten and possibly raped, of course not. But there was really no other option. He would run, but his anklet made sure he wouldn't make it far. Besides, Gerard was too fast for him. He would fight the man, but at the moment, that was a bit difficult. Gerard was much larger than him, too, and obviously more experienced with fighting, so he was at a loss there. He sighed, closing his eyes and cutting himself off from his emotions, deciding on just taking it.

Gerard leaned in, catching Frank's lips in a bruising kiss. When the younger boy tried to pull away, Gerard brought his hand behind his neck, keeping the boy stationary. His lips worked against the unmoving ones, prying them open and shoving his tongue down the boy's throat. Frank gagged and Gerard pulled away, leaving his captive coughing and sputtering. He leaned in again, but Frank turned his head, whimpering a quiet, "Please, no more!"

Gerard brought his hand back, rage etched over his features. He gave the boy such a powerful smack to the cheek that his head snapped to the side and blood trickled from his mouth. He looked back up at Gerard's looming frame in shock.

"Don't you _dare _turn away from me, Frank. You're _mine_. I can do _whatever _I want with you. Ever since I saw you that day in the park, I wanted nothing more than to make sweet, _sweet_, love to you. Now that I have the chance, I don't want you turning away." His eyes darkened and his voice took on a childish tone. _"I_ found you, so _I _get to decide what to do with you!" He grabbed Frank's ankle- the one without the anklet- in both his hands. Ignoring the other's protests and pleads, he gave it one almighty twist, smiling when he heard the satisfying crack. Frank screamed in agony, his newly broken ankle jutting out at an awkward angle through his jeans.

"Every time you disobey me, I break a bone. Keep that in mind, Frank." He giggled, adding, "I don't think you want me having to carry you everywhere."

Frank cried out again as he tried to move his ankle. He was too scared to even move. "Puh-please, Gerard," he croaked. "Stop, please."

Gerard held a hand up to his ear, poking Frank's broken ankle slightly, earning him a gasp from the boy below him. "What was that?"

Frank shut up immediately and Gerard kissed his nose. "Good boy."

He grabbed the front of Frank's shirt, ripping it off of him in one swift movement. He then moved to the boy's pants and boxers, yanking them down and throwing them across the room. Now completely exposed to his kidnapper, Frank writhed and twisted, trying to shield himself from Gerard's scrutinizing gaze.

The killer, still completely clothed, raked his eyes over his captive's pale body, drinking him in. The boy was even more gorgeous than he thought. His chest and stomach were toned, and dozens of tattoos littered the boy's arms and torso, catching Gerard's attention; he didn't know the boy had tattoos. He let his hands roam over Frank's body, clicking his tongue at the whimpers of protest he got.

"You're beautiful, Frankie," he purred, licking a stripe up the boy's chest. "Mm, so fucking gorgeous."

Frank squeezed his eyes shut, biting his tongue. He heard the sound of clothes rustling and cringed back further into the mattress. He was about to have his innocence taken away from him, stolen, gone forever. But somehow, he couldn't help but think that he deserved it. Sure, he hadn't asked to be kidnapped, but he did, however, anger Gerard even though he knew it was a bad idea. So now he was paying the price. Did he want to get raped? Absolutely not! Did he think if was fair? No! But he had been stupid. And now, squeezing his eyes shut even more, he was about to be humiliated because of it.

Frank was brought out of his thoughts when Gerard bit down hard on his neck, giving a hard thrust into him at the same time.

He screamed so loud that he felt his throat rip, blood gushing into his mouth and trickling down his chin, his neck, his collarbone. His eyes glazed over and gained a faraway look as he blocked out the situation, the sounds of Gerard's moans and groans filling his mind.

. . .

Gerard collapsed next to Frank, a blissful smile on his face. He was breathing hard and fast, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Both men's pale bodies were slicked with sweat.

Frank stared up at the ceiling. Every last inch of his body-both inside and out- was on fire. He'd had his leg broken shortly after his ankle for "not looking like he was enjoying it," and his insides felt like they'd been ripped apart. To add to his injuries, Frank felt dirty, as if all the baths in the world wouldn't make him feel any cleaner. He could still feel Gerard viciously pounding into him, hitting his head off the headboard. He could still see those piercing green eyes locked onto his, taunting him and threatening him all the same.

The thing that scared him the most, though, were his emotions. They were up and down, almost worse that Gerard's. He was also terrified of his feelings towards said man. He hated him. He'd kidnapped Frank, beat him, and raped him. Of course Frank hated him. Yet, one little voice in the back of his head begged to differ. He hated Gerard, yet at the same time, he _loved_ him. It was bizarre. It was insane. It was _sick._

What captive fell for his kidnapped? What victim fell for his rapist? Frank couldn't help but compare himself to a dog. Say a man beats his dog day in and day out, yet the dog still loves him, is still loyal to him. That's Frank. He was that dog. He was repulsed by this. Not because of his similarities with a beaten dog, but because he couldn't help but admit that he did in fact love Gerard. It made no sense, yet it was true.

Frank took a glance at the man next to him, soft snores now emitting from his lips. He couldn't help but notice the way his long black hair fanned out perfectly around his head, the way his bruised lips were parted, and the way his chest rose and fell in equal intervals. He looked innocent while he was asleep. All traces of violence and anger were gone, replaced by the angelic face of a man who could pass for sixteen.

The angelic face of the man Frank despised, yet adored.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Three Little Birds

. . .

Linda Iero sat at her kitchen table, a cold cup of coffee in one hand while the other raked through her graying hair. Dark bags resided underneath her dull eyes and her lips were pulled into an ever- present frown. It'd been almost two weeks since her son ran away, evidently taking her heart with him.

She'd really been trying. She knew that Frank was upset that she wasn't around much due to her work, but she'd really tried to be the best mother she could during the time she had with her son. She didn't expect him to leave, but now that he had, she wanted nothing else but for him to return.

She glanced through the doorway and into the living room, eyes trained on the stairs. She hadn't been in her son's room since the day she found him gone. Drawers had been thrown everywhere and clothes ripped out across the floor. A crumbled note rested on his dresser reading, "Dear Mom, don't look for me," in a messy scrawl. Upon reading it, she had collapsed to the messy floor in tears, immediately calling Ray and Jamia's parents to see if he had gone there. They'd said no, he wasn't there, resulting in more strangled sobs from Linda.

Now, twelve days later, she found herself slowly climbing the stairs, the wood creaking ominously with each step. She padded down the hallway, stopping outside of Frank's poster covered bedroom door. She lightly pushed it open, the room the same as it had been when she'd found it; she'd been too upset to clean at all.

She entered her son's room, her eyes filling with tears. She picked up one of his shirts, his scent imbedded into it. She clutched it to her chest, more sobs and pleas for him to come home erupting from her. Opening her eyes again, she decided on cleaning a bit. Maybe it would make her feel better.

She picked up several more shirts, a shiny object catching her eye. She lifted it up carefully, eyes wide in horror at the crude item.

A syringe.

She trembled. Frank didn't do drugs. Well, at least as far as she knew. He was a good kid, what with his decent grades and blemish-free record. Why else would he have a syringe in his room?

Thinking back on it, his bedroom door had been dented slightly, and the rugs had been slightly askew downstairs. Her eyes widened in realization. _No_, she thought. _No, anything but that_. It all began to make sense now. The too-brief note, the door, the syringe, the rugs.

Frank had been kidnapped.

Linda quickly dashed for the phone, punching in the number she'd hoped she'd never have to use.

. . .

Several knocks on the door brought Linda out of the trance she'd been in. She rushed downstairs, opening the door. Two uniformed police officers stood on her front porch.

"Hello, Ms. Iero," greeted one officer, his handsome features soft. "My name is Officer Bryar, and this is Officer Pedicone." He nodded towards his partner. "May we come in?"

Linda cleared her throat and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Yes, come in."

The officers followed her into the living room, where Linda sat down and burst into tears. Officer Bryar laid his hand on her shoulder, his expression sympathetic.

"Ms. Iero, we received information that you think your son has been kidnapped?"

She nodded, holding up the syringe which she'd placed in a plastic bag. "I found it on the floor of his room."

Officer Pedicone took the bag, nodding at Bryar. Bryar nodded back, turning to face Linda again.

"Ma'am, what else did you find that led you to believe that your son was abducted?"

She sniffed. "Well, his door was dented, the rugs in here were all crooked, and this was left on his dresser." She handed the police the note, their eyes scanning over it.

"And you think the kidnapper wrote this?" Pedicone spoke up.

Linda shook her head. "I'm not sure. It doesn't look like Frank's handwriting."

Pedicone nodded. "Can we take this in for evidence?" Linda nodded, more tears sliding down her cheeks.

Officer Bryar cleared his throat. "We can't be certain if this is a kidnapping right now, Ms. Iero, but we'll have this syringe and note analyzed and we'll get back to you."

Linda nodded solemnly, leading the officers to the door. They both turned to leave, but Bryar turned back.

"And Ms. Iero? We'll do everything in our power to bring Frank home, and if this is in fact an abduction, we'll make sure this bastard is locked up."

With that said, both cops turned and walked back to their car, their radios crackling and calling in another case as they left.

. . .

Frank awoke to the sound of sobbing the next morning. His eyes cracked open and instantly, a wave of agony washed over him, followed by nausea. He groaned and the sobbing stopped, replaced by a, "Frankie?"

Frank groaned again, the pain he was in excruciating.

Gerard's tear stained face popped into view. "Frankie? Oh, Frankie, thank god! I thought I'd killed you!"

Strangely, those words didn't comfort Frank. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but his throat hurt terribly and all that came out was, "H-hurts."

More tears leaked from Gerard's eyes and he smiled sadly. "I know, Frankie, I know. I'm gonna get you all fixed up, don't worry."

He lifted Frank's naked body from the bed, earning him a squeak of pain from the boy. He carried him from his room to the bathroom, laying him against the tub as he filled it with hot water. Frank whimpered as his skin met the icy tile, but it soothed the pain, even if it was just a little. He looked up at Gerard, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "'M sor-r-ry, Ge-rard," he managed to croak.

Gerard looked down at him, frowning slightly. Immediately, Frank flinched. Gerard noticed, frowning deeper, not because he was angry with Frank, but because he was angry with himself. "No, don't be sorry, Frankie. I didn't need to be so hard on you. I should be the one apologizing, not you." He lifted the boy again, placing him into the tub. Frank hissed at the hot water, but instantly began to relax as the pain dulled slightly.

As Gerard washed the blood from Frank, he couldn't help but regret what he did. Sure, the boy had tried to run away after Gerard warned him not to, but that didn't mean Gerard had to go and rape him. He knew he had to make it up to Frank. Sure, he'd never be able to _really_ make it up, but it was worth a shot, and he decided on giving Frank some peace at mind for starters.

"Frank?" He began, running his soapy fingers through Frank's dark hair. "What I did last night was absolutely disgusting, and I'm sorry. I regret it more than anything. I can't even begin to make up for what I did, but I have to start somewhere. So, starting right now, I promise to never raise a hand to you again."

Frank stared at Gerard in shock. Was he serious? He would never hit Frank again? Frank smiled, the grin growing bigger and bigger with every passing second before he was sure it would fall right off his face.

"T-thank you, Ge-Gerard," he choked.

Gerard smiled back at him, laying a sweet kiss on the boy's forehead.

Gerard flipped the drain on the tub, letting the water begin to drain as he picked Frank up again, setting him on the toilet. He grabbed a towel, ruffling the boy's hair with it and giggling at the pout Frank made. Wrapping the towel around the boy, he lifted him again, mindful of his broken leg and ankle, and brought him back into his room, setting him on the black sheets.

"I've got to wrap your leg up so it'll heal properly. Stay right here," Gerard said, his voice affectionate but firm.

Frank watched as Gerard left, pondering over his words. Did he still want to leave? He didn't know. Of course he didn't want to be held here as a prisoner, but...Gerard never treated him like a prisoner. Sure he'd beaten and even raped him, but only because Frank had provoked him. Gerard never hurt him unless he'd done something to anger him. He fed Frank home cooked meals and even offered to take him shopping. It was obvious this man cared for Frank.

Frank just never took the time to notice.

Gerard returned, humming cheerfully under his breath. His arms were filled with disinfectant and bandages. He set the items down on the bed, gently pushing Frank to lie on his back.

Frank's eyes widened and suddenly, he wasn't where he was anymore. The room was dark and Gerard was leaning over him, his green eyes hazy yet absolutely burning with lust. His sweat dripped down on Frank, his thrusts hard and fast. Frank's head was being smacked against the headboard and he was screaming, screeching at the top of his lungs for Gerard to stop. But Gerard didn't listen. Frank could feel himself slipping, black ebbing at his vision when-

"FRANK!"

Frank's eyes snapped open and he realized he'd been screaming. He was slicked with sweat, his entire frame trembling. His wide hazel eyes met Gerard's concerned green ones, and instantly, Frank saw the pure love and adoration swirling in them. He couldn't help but stare.

"Frankie, are you okay?!" Gerard questioned, taking Frank's face in his hands. "You're burning up, sweetie. Are you ill?"

Frank shook his head. "I had a flashback," he whispered, his cheeks blazing.

Gerard instantly brought Frank into a bone-crushing hug, cooing into his ear.

"I'm so sorry, Frankie. Oh, sugar, I'm so, so sorry." Gerard leaned back, squeezing Frank's arms gently. "I'll never do anything like that to you again, I promise."

Frank nodded, his heart still beating erratically.

"Alright," Gerard said, picking up the disinfectant. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

He sprayed over Frank's cuts and bruises, squeezing the younger boy's hand when he would wince. He picked up the bandages, gently wrapping them up Frank's swollen leg.

_"Don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be all right," _he sang softly, letting the thick bandage unravel along Frank's bruised skin. _"Singin' don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."_

Frank marveled at how perfect Gerard's voice was. It was raspy, yet...delicate. It was peaceful, angelic almost.

"You should sing more often," Frank said softly.

Gerard looked up at him, having been lost in his own thoughts. "Huh?"

"You should really sing more often. Your voice is beautiful."

Gerard blushed, a dainty pink little glow on his cheeks. "Well, I don't know about beautiful..." He pinned the bandage in place, giving Frank's knee a gentle tap. "There, all done."

Frank looked down at the thick bandaging winding up his leg. He moved to stand, wincing and moaning in pain when his weight was pressed on his ankle.

Gerard scratched the back of his neck, looking away slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to help you with the whole walking situation." He wrapped one arm around Frank's middle, pulling him back, and snaking his other arm under the boy's legs, hoisting him into the air.

"Let's get you some breakfast, Frankie."

Frank looked into Gerard's eyes, smiling genuinely for the first time in years. "Thank you, Gerard."

Gerard raised his eyebrows, chuckling. Where had that come from? He wasn't complaining, though. He loved getting along with Frank, and maybe, hopefully, one day, Frank would feel the same way towards Gerard as the older man felt towards Frank. "No problem." He bit his lip, looking down slightly. "And please, call me Gee from now on."


End file.
